Bliss
by goblynn
Summary: Response to the "Day Spa Challenge" on grissomandsara.com


"What a waste of time!" A collections kit landed on the table with a crash, jolting Nick into consciousness.  
  
"What the hell?" He looked up, meeting the furious gaze of Sara Sidle. "What's your problem?"  
  
"Sara is a bit--perturbed--at the moment, Nick." Grissom's soft voice drifted from the doorway. He remained in his position, eyes following Sara's anxious pacing, lips twisting into a smirk. She whirled around at his comment.  
  
"'Perturbed'? Are you kidding?" She turned back to Nick. "We get out to this spa, right? On Green Valley Parkway...a robbery call. We meet the owner--some middle-aged victim of unnatural societal expectations--and she tells us the thieves made off with her prized crystals. Crystals, Nick-- CRYSTALS!" She dropped into a chair with a huff. "It was utterly ridiculous."  
  
Grissom sighed, "It was one of the more mundane cases I've ever worked, yes, but a crime was committed."  
  
"I'm well aware that a crime was committed, Grissom. I had to spend two hours of my life dusting that hellhole for prints, remember? While you were off making nice with the rich people?"  
  
"It wasn't that bad, Sara."  
  
"Yeah, maybe not for you."  
  
Nick's eyes bounced back and forth between the unusually fussy pair. "What's gotten into you two? How hard can a robbery be?"  
  
Grissom finally joined them, gently placing his briefcase on the table, glancing pointedly at Sara as if to illustrate the contrast further. She rolled her eyes in response, gritting her teeth to force back a biting remark. "It wasn't difficult, Nick. In fact, the crystals hadn't even been removed from the building. Apparently, the perpetrators decided to dump them into a tub of paraffin wax. Sara found them when she noticed the wax was in a liquid state, rather than the solid that would be expected at two in the morning."  
  
"So, what were they doing? Giving themselves facials?"  
  
Grissom spread his upturned palms in a gesture of surrender. "I have no idea."  
  
"Okay, what did the owner say?"  
  
"Sara, would you like to take this one?" Grissom smirked again, and Nick began to wonder exactly what to expect from his thoroughly peeved colleague.  
  
"Oh, she raved about our abilities, about how great we are for 'solving' her case so quickly, that she'd be sure to tell everyone how 'marvelous' we are, and then," she fished around in her jacket pocket a moment, "she gave us this." Finding what she'd been searching for, she tossed a gift certificate onto the Formica surface.  
  
Nick leaned forward for a better look, muttering as he read aloud, "Bliss Day Spa Gift Certificate...talk about poor handwriting..." ("Nick, the woman was in a hurry." "Yeah, yeah--whatever.") "...a day of what?...'pleasurable relaxation techniques'...o-kaaay...including: a one- hour full body massage, a manicure/pedicure, and a rejuvenating mudbath...for two." He leaned back in his chair, smugly crossed his arms and smiled. Really smiled. "Oh, this is good, you two. Good."  
  
"Shut the hell up, Nick. There's no way I'm using that. Grissom has to take it."  
  
"Sara, I can't use that."  
  
"What makes you think I can?"  
  
He closed his mouth with nary another word.  
  
"So, what are we gonna do with it?" Nick ventured, "Because it'd be a shame to throw it away."  
  
"I don't care what you do with it, Nick, because I'm not using it."  
  
"Sara, lighten up. You might like it if you'd try it." He blinked, a glazed look passing over his face before being quickly replaced with the patented Nick-Has-an-Idea look. "That's what we'll do with it. You'll both use it--"  
  
"Nick--"  
  
"Dammit--"  
  
"Hey, let a guy finish for once, will you? Hear me out. As I was saying, you'll both use it, but who's to say you have to be together? Maybe they'll let you come in on entirely different days, or at least keep you in separate rooms. Would that be so bad?" He grinned at them. "You know you'd like it."  
  
**********  
  
"Exactly how did we fall for that, again?" Sara clutched her bag closer to her body as they strode through the Bliss Day Spa parking lot.  
  
Grissom glanced over at her, hoisting his own bag higher onto his shoulder. "I'm not absolutely certain, but I think it had something to do with promising we'd never see each other."  
  
She frowned. "He certainly screwed us on that, didn't he?"  
  
**********  
  
Sara leaned across the receptionist's counter, hissing. "What do you mean you don't have other available rooms?"  
  
"I mean we don't have any other open rooms, ma'am. I'm sorry, but you and the gentleman must share a room--as originally stated on your certificate, this is for couples--but if you simply must be separated, I'm sure we can arrange an appointment for another day--"  
  
"No, that won't be necessary--" Grissom interjected, his hand wrapping around Sara's upper arm with gentle insistence, "but, for privacy's sake, do you have a curtain divider, or something similar?"  
  
The receptionist's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not absolutely certain, but I can check for you."  
  
"I'd appreciate it. Thank you," he cast a quick glance at her ID badge, "Alicia."  
  
When Alicia left the desk to locate a divider, Sara wrenched her arm from his grasp. "What are you doing? We are not sharing a room."  
  
"Do you have a better idea?"  
  
"Yeah. We leave."  
  
He paused, his eyes drifting closed briefly as he calmed himself. She could be so tenacious at times. "You know I despise playing devil's advocate, but we have come this far. We might as well see it through. Besides, Nick might be right. We might like it." He tried smiling at her, to no avail. She put her sunglasses back on and turned her back to him, surveying the lobby with shielded eyes.  
  
"Sir?" Alicia had returned. "Your room is ready. They've found a partition that may be suitable for your needs. Follow me, please."  
  
Picking up his bag, he stepped aside to allow Sara passage. As she strode past, her muttered words barely registered--"This would be funny if it weren't happening to me."  
  
**********  
  
Sara was aghast. Dumbfounded. Really, really pissed. The "divider" was one of those decorative trifold things with the sheer white gauze threaded onto each panel. One of those "I can still see you!" jobs soccer moms put in corners of their bedrooms so they can feel all special. Any other day, she'd just snarl at it. Today, however--  
  
"This isn't going to work, Grissom."  
  
"Sara, it's fine. I'll change somewhere else."  
  
She crossed her arms, eyeing him. "Where?"  
  
He scanned the room, noting there were no possibilities open to him. In desperation, he grabbed a couple of towels from the wall rack opposite the massage tables and tossed them over the divider. The effect was acceptable-- now it was opaque. "How's that?"  
  
"Better."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She smiled at him, quickly, before disappearing from his view behind the barrier. Following suit, he changed as well, wrapping himself tightly in a large towel, acutely aware of his nakedness--an awareness heightened by the knowledge that Sara was baring herself less than ten feet from where he now stood. At that precise moment, her skin would be free from the constraints of clothing--she could feel the slight chill in the air, the nubby texture of the carpet beneath her feet, the softness of the white terrycloth around her hips...his eyes clamped shut against the image. Forcing it from his mind, he took his place on the table, sighing deeply as he heard her quiet rustling to his right.  
  
"Grissom?"  
  
"Yes?" His voice sounded oddly strained.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay. Good." She paused. "Do you know how long it'll be before they get in here?"  
  
"No."  
  
Hesitation. "Can you say anything that isn't monosyllabic?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She laughed softly.  
  
They waited.  
  
**********  
  
Ten minutes passed. Grissom could sense her agitation, could hear her moving around on the other side of the screen. An occasional sigh clued him in to her boredom. She spoke, finally, without warning.  
  
"Grissom?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How do you feel about this screen?"  
  
"It does it's job. There's no way to feel about it."  
  
"It doesn't bother you? This disembodied voice thing?"  
  
"No, I can't say that it does."  
  
"Well, it bothers the hell out of me. I'm moving it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm not talking to you unless I move it."  
  
"Sara, that makes no sense. You insisted on us not sharing a room, I made every attempt to accommodate that wish, and now you're changing your mind?"  
  
The towels on the partition were swept down, leaving her silhouetted against the fabric. She had also wrapped herself, but at torso level, leaving the outlines of her legs clearly visible. He swallowed, averting his eyes before she moved the entire screen out of their line of vision. Upon hearing her resettling herself on the table, he turned his gaze back-- only to find she was watching him as intently as he was her. Fortunately, the towels discreetly covered her from bust to thighs, saving them both any embarrassment.  
  
Sara blinked hard, turning to stare at the wall in front of them. "So, how 'bout them Mets?"  
  
**********  
  
The masseuses entered the room quietly, clad in trim white outfits unusually similar to those worn by orderlies in mental hospitals. The pair exchanged a knowing glance, Sara mouthing "What have we gotten ourselves into?" before burying her face into her elbow. The winsome coeds assigned to them pasted on bored, careless faces, put a compact disc of Enya into a Bose player, and went to work.  
  
A scant few minutes passed before Sara caught herself nodding off. She peered over at Grissom, his head resting gently on his arms, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In her stupor, Sara locked onto that mouth, watching with fascination as he drew in one agonizingly long breath, held it briefly, then released it with a sigh. The action was repeated time and again, and still her gaze never wavered, until she saw the tip of his tongue dart out to touch his upper lip--quickly--then disappear. She stiffened, all traces of fatigue rushing from her limbs.  
  
"You're very tense, ma'am," her attendant commented lightly.  
  
"I'm not tense...just terribly, terribly alert." She swallowed hard, her eyes wandering up to his soft, denim-colored ones.  
  
She realized with a start that his eyes were open.  
  
He smiled again at her, those same eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "Enjoying yourself?" Panic gripped her, freezing her voice as she grappled for words. She half-mumbled her response: "Yes--just a little...tense." She reached for her towel, tugging it a bit higher on her waist, conscious of the sheer amount of exposed flesh on display. Casting a quick glance in his direction, she thought she caught a flash of disappointment. Dropping her head to escape his view, she ground her teeth in silent frustration, willing the remains of the hour to pass quickly.  
  
**********  
  
Deafening silence roused him from a pleasant slumber. Struggling to see in the semi-darkness, he lifted his head, peering through half-lidded eyes in the direction she had been in when last he saw her. Perched on the table's edge, a fully-dressed Sara grinned down at him.  
  
"Time to get up, Gris."  
  
He coughed, clearing his throat. "How long was I asleep?"  
  
"Half-hour, little longer."  
  
"Why didn't you wake me?" He pushed himself up from the table, moving to sit up. Turning quickly, she covered her eyes.  
  
"Hey, Grissom--no need to share."  
  
Heat flared in his cheeks as he clutched the towel to his body. "Sorry...I didn't--"  
  
"It's okay...I know you didn't mean anything by it. I'll let you get dressed, okay? See you outside."  
  
She sounded almost wistful.  
  
**********  
  
"Now this is more like it."  
  
"You like this?"  
  
"Hey, it's not my fault they had only pink robes left."  
  
"I never said it was. I just don't see the point in wearing a robe when I'm getting a pedicure...or a manicure."  
  
"It's the comfort factor. You're more relaxed in a robe."  
  
"I was relaxed forty minutes ago. This is akin to Chinese water torture, in comparison."  
  
"Sara, would you let it go?"  
  
**********  
  
"No."  
  
"It's perfectly sanitary."  
  
"It's mud. Mud, Grissom. The brown stuff that kids play in."  
  
"That's not always mud."  
  
"Jesus, make it worse, will you?"  
  
"They eat the 'mud' sometimes, you know."  
  
"Okay, that's it. I'm leaving."  
  
"No, you're not. Go change." He motioned towards the screen that had been carried down from the massage room and placed between the stone 'tubs' they would be using. "We'll leave that where it is this time, agreed?"  
  
She nodded. "Agreed."  
  
The mud was warm, enveloping her in a soothing blanket of moisture. Sinking down to her neck, she reached up one hand to make sure her hair was still secured on top of her head. Satisfied it would stay in place, she took a few sips of tea from her glass and relaxed against the marble "pillow" beneath her skull.  
  
"This is nice."  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes against the fluorescent glow above them. "I'm glad we did this."  
  
"So am I."  
  
Faintly, music began to play, and conversation faltered as each tried to discover from where it was emanating. After some time, Grissom languidly turned back to the screen dividing them.  
  
"Sara?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I've enjoyed this."  
  
"That's great."  
  
"No, I mean this. You and me, together for a day, no bodies, no files, just- -us. Enjoying ourselves."  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
"Do you?" His voice was thick.  
  
She was thankful he couldn't see her incredulous face.  
  
On the other side of the screen, Grissom's heart was pounding. Blood was rushing in his ears, the light around him was painfully bright...he could smell her--not perfume, not sweat...her. Sara. He drew a ragged breath. The screen gave him courage. It was like being back on the bench--the both of them essentially alone, the smell of the ice sharp in his nostrils, the smell of her...heady and dizzying to the brain. He recalled another night-- the feel of her hand against his face, the smoothness of her skin.  
  
"'A thing of beauty is a joy forever...'"  
  
"What?"  
  
"'She walks in beauty...'"  
  
"Grissom..."  
  
"'Beauty fires the blood...'" The words kept coming, despite her protests. "'Tis beauty truly blent'...'Doth perfect beauty stand in need of praise at all?'...'The power of beauty I remember yet'..."  
  
"Grissom--stop!" She clutched her hands to her breast, trying to still their shaking. "Please...please, stop."  
  
He fell silent.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
He could hear the confusion in her tone, the tears she thought she'd hidden so well. He could hear the catch in her throat when she tried to regain composure. "I don't know."  
  
"Yes, you do. You never do anything unless you know why."  
  
"I merely...felt..."  
  
She closed her eyes, willing calmness into her limbs. Uncertainly, she slid from the mud, her hands gliding over the floor to push the screen away. His sleepy eyes met hers, briefly growing large as she slipped in above him, her body resting against his.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I want to feel, too." 


End file.
